


beauty is pain (and petals)

by pinball_mentality



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Hopeful Ending, Mentions of Blood, Mutual Pining, No Dialogue, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Pining Link, and i felt it fit the mood of the fic, i guess??, i just really like the aesthetic okay??, i literally hate the title of this but idk what else to call it, i... dont really know what else to tag, it’s implied, i’m writing this at midnight give me a break, lowercase intended, no beta we die like the champions, yeah its another one of those fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinball_mentality/pseuds/pinball_mentality
Summary: it is beautiful and it is sad and it hurts. petals fall from his lips and he knows he deserves this, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing for something different.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	beauty is pain (and petals)

**Author's Note:**

> uh yeah so i basically detailed everything in the tags but in case you missed it, this is hanahaki trash because i am hanahaki trash. also it’s midnight so cut me some slack, please!
> 
> (also wow, i’m uploading a zelda that’s not from years ago?? shocker.)

the petals feel like velvet in between his fingertips. soft and smooth. the red of blood stands out against the pale color of his skin and the blue-white of the petals nicely. the beauty of it is a stark contrast to the stabbing pain he feels. it spreads outwards from his chest, like a disease. maybe it is one.

his throat convulses as more petals force their way out, alongside fully developed flowers. they tumble out of his mouth alongside drops of fresh blood, further staining the flora and the skin of his hands. he feels ill. the excruciating pain makes his stomach churn, and he hopes that what comes out is something other than the flowers surrounding him.

their blue and white beauty seems to mock him. he deserves it, he supposes. this is his punishment for falling in love with the princess. he will bear it silently like everything else, until one day it consumed him fully and he passes away. until then, though, he will admire the tragic pulchritude of the silent princesses that escape him.

they look so pretty like this. they remind him of a temperamental blonde against his will and suddenly the stabbing in his chest grows harsher. what seems like a full bouquet of flowers fall to the ground, some getting caught in his cupped hands. crimson splatters alongside them. some of it gets on his tunic, he notes disappointedly. blood is rather difficult to wash out if left in too long, and he can’t believe that he’s going to leave anytime soon. oh well.

some hair falls in his face and he can’t find it in him to blow the golden strands away. he doesn’t think he has the air to, even if he wanted to. so he sits there, in a puddle of blood and silent princesses, vision ever-so-slightly obscured, hairs occasionally making his nose twitch. the pain becomes too much and he leans slightly forward in his kneeling position and heaves. once. twice. nothing comes up, not even petals. his stomach is empty.

the master sword lays nearby, too. half pulled-out, the silver metal glints slightly in the sun. he lays in an empty field, green grasses trailing softly against the fabric of his pants. there aren’t many that pop up past the weight of the flowers, though. he’s coughed so many up that they drown out anything else. it’s a beautiful sight. the elegance of the petals do a good job of hiding the damage they caused along the way.

he can’t laugh, not really, so he wheezes instead. he wheezes ruefully. he can defeat the incarnation of evil, a literal calamity, and yet he cannot get over himself enough to let go of his love. he’s pathetic. he deserves everything happening to him. a few splatters of blood are diluted by freshly fallen tears. he pays them no mind.

the princess is inside the castle. she’s helping direct construction efforts, as the building was damaged with the rise of the calamity. he wishes she could fix the brokenness inside of him, help get rid of the roots digging into his lungs. he wants her to save him. but that will never happen, he understands this, and so he closes his eyes and lets the salty liquid flow freely. the glare of the master sword was hurting his eyes anyways.

one last petal falls freely from his lips before he gathers himself and reluctantly stands. his legs shake. his hands shake. his chest aches. his lungs spasm. his eyes water. his heartbeat is loud, too loud, too fast. he ignores all of this and instead bends down to pick up his blade, placing the scabbard on his back again. he collects himself and carries on, continuing on his journey towards a nearby shrine.

the silent princesses lay still in the grass. they are beautiful, blue and white blending together and fading into the background to let the crimson staining them shine. link walks away from the manifestation of his love for zelda. but it stays. it will always stay. quiet. beautiful. painful. contradictory.

constant.

_(back at the castle, princess zelda feels a tickle in her throat. a flash of blonde hair and blue eyes appears in her mind and she quickly excuses herself outside. she coughs. a single petal falls to the ground.)_

**Author's Note:**

> in case you’re confused by the ending: basically link and zelda are both pining for each other and suffer from hanahaki because they believe it’s unrequited.
> 
> feel free to comment and drop some kudos! it gives me that sweet, sweet serotonin.


End file.
